Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

Our parents had been so proud, if not a little confused how little pieces of vinyl cut out and stuck on something as mundane as tyres could become a conglomerate company.

“So, spill little bro. Who is she and what has she done to you?”

I grinned. “Not telling and I still don’t entirely understand what she’s done. I do know I was naked in her house last night and didn’t get to touch her and I was spotted by a neighbour who now thinks I’m her crazy cousin—which in this town with local gossip is not a good thing.”

“Wow, sounds like an interesting one.”

I sighed. “She is.”

“Holy crap, was that a sigh? Did you seriously motherfucking just sigh over this chick?”

I slapped my forehead. Ugh, I sounded like a love-struck sap. “What? Hell no. Don’t be stupid.”

“You did! Oh my God! You like her. Like ‘don’t just like her with your pleasure stick’ like her but like ‘heart-icky’ like her.”

“Okay, time to shut up.”

“No way. I’ve got to meet this elusive unicorn. I thought you’d never find one.”

“You can talk. How many relationships have you been through now? Twenty?”

“Five long termish and I had legitimate reasons to break it off.”

“Right. You’re just paranoid.”

Rupert huffed. “You’d be paranoid too if you caught your last ex enlisting a computer hacker to crack your banking password.”

“Dude, she didn’t.”

“She did.”

“Wow, goes to show having money doesn’t make you safer.”

“Not from the looney toons, anyway.”

We fell silent for a second before Rupe added, “Heads up, I’m coming to you in a couple of weeks. Not to spy on your new piece of ass but to have some R&R. This last conference really took it out of me.”

The thought of seeing my brother almost managed to push aside my crazy desire for Vesper. We hadn’t seen each other in two years. Not from lack of wanting to but with his hectic work schedule and the insane travel he’d been doing, it was hard to be in the same place at the same time with free space just to hang out.

“That’s awesome, Rupe. When will you be here?”

“Two weeks tomorrow. Mind if I crash at your place?”

“Hell, of course. I’ll put you to work. You still know how to use a paintbrush thanks to dad teaching us how to renovate right?”

He groaned. “This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“Vacation schmation. You can still have a beer or four. And we can chat while being productive.”

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Ugh, what is it with people and conditions lately?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” My mind scooted to Vesper and the pact we’d made about not ‘helping’ ourselves out of this mind-numbing situation.

“You don’t still have a billion canine rug rats running around, right? I’m not gonna have to watch where I step in fear of squashing a chinchilla thing?”